puts me in mind of Elder Mathews, who
was at the Presbyterian Church in minister Scott's time. Anyhow, I had
rather be in his power than in the hands of that black-haired one with
the flint eyes. Sadie, dear, you feel better now its cooler, don't you?"

"Yes, Auntie; don't you fret about me. How are you yourself?"

"Well, I'm stronger in faith than I was.

"They haven't hurt you, Norah, have they?"

"I set you a poor example, Sadie, for I was clean crazed at first at the
suddenness of it all, and at thinking of what your mother, who trusted
you to me, would think about it. My land, there'll be some headlines in
the _Boston Herald_ over this! I guess somebody will have to suffer for
it."

"Poor Mr. Stuart!" cried Sadie, as the monotonous, droning voice of the
delirious man came again to their ears. "Come, Auntie, and see if we
cannot do something to relieve him."

"I'm uneasy about Mrs. Shlesinger and the child," said Colonel Cochrane.
"I can see your wife, Belmont, but I can see no one else."

"They are bringing her over," cried he. "Thank God! We shall hear all
about it. They haven't hurt you, Norah, have they?" He ran forward to
grasp and kiss the hand which his wife held down to him as he helped her
from the camel.

[Illustration: They haven't hurt you, Norah, have they p139]

The kind, grey eyes and calm, sweet face of the Irishwoman brought
comfort and hope to the whole party. She was a devout Roman Catholic,
and it is a creed which forms an excellent prop in hours of danger.
To her, to the Anglican Colonel, to the Nonconformist minister, to the
Presbyterian American, even to the two Pagan black riflemen, religion in
its various forms was fulfilling the same beneficent office,--whispering
always that the worst which the world can do is a small thing, and that,
however harsh the ways of Providence may seem, it is, on the whole, the
wisest and best thing for us that we should go cheerfully whither the
Great Hand guides us. They had not a dogma in common, these fellows in
misfortune, but they held the intimate, deep-lying spirit, the calm,
essential fatalism which is the world-old framework of religion, with
fresh crops of dogmas growing like ephemeral lichens upon its granite
surface.

"You poor things," she said. "I can see that you have had a much worse
time than I have. No, really, John, dear, I am quite well,--not even
very thirsty, for our party filled their waterskins at the Nile, and
they let me have as much as I wanted. But I don't see Mr. Headingly and
Mr. Brown. And poor Mr. Stuart,--what a state he has been reduced to!"

"Headingly and Brown are out of their troubles," her husband answered.
"You don't know how often I have thanked God to-day, Norah, that you
were not with us. And here you are, after all."

"Where should I be but by my husband's side? I had much, _much_ rather
be here than safe at Haifa."

"Has any news gone to the town?" asked the Colonel.

"One boat escaped. Mrs. Shlesinger and her child and maid were in it. I
was downstairs in my cabin when the Arabs rushed on to the vessel. Those
on deck had time to escape, for the boat was alongside. I don't know
whether any of them were hit. The Arabs fired at them for some time."

"Did they?" cried Belmont, exultantly, his responsive Irish nature
catching the sunshine in an instant. "Then, be Jove, we'll do them yet,
for the garrison must have heard the firing. What d'ye think, Cochrane?
They must be full cry upon our scent this four hours. Any minute we
might see the white puggaree of a British officer coming over that
rise."

But disappointment had left the Colonel cold and sceptical.

"They need not come at all unless they come strong," said he. "These
fellows are picked men with good leaders, and on their own ground they
will take a lot of beating." Suddenly he paused and looked at the Arabs.
"By George!" said he, "that's a sight worth seeing!"